


every day's an apple pie (with you i'm not so shy)

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Recreational Drug Use, Telepathy Under the Influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22055044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Scott tries edibles and is a deeply emotional person.
Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	every day's an apple pie (with you i'm not so shy)

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello this is anonymous because i'm a naturally anxious person  
(the working title for this fic was jean and scott do dumb teenage stuff and the actual title comes from apple pie by the scary jokes)

“I only want to try edibles. I did research beforehand and smoke and vapor are bad for your lungs. Plus, I don’t want Logan to smell it on me.” 

Jean stared at him with an incredulous, yet fond look. Scott blushed.

“What? I wanted to be prepared and informed.” She laughed, which made him smile. He liked it when she laughed.

“Okay,” she said. “Weed has a different effect on everyone. For example, while for some people who are anxious it might make them more paranoid, others it could make their anxiety go away. If you do get paranoid the best thing to do is to sleep it off.”

“And there’s no hangover?”

“None.” She held out the now open package of edibles. “Just take a small bite, you don’t know how much it will affect you, and it takes about thirty minutes to hit, usually, though it can change depending on the person.”

Scott laid back on the bed.

* * *

“I don’t think it’s working, may I have another bite?”

Jean nodded, and Scott took another bite. It didn’t taste bad, just like someone had rolled a mediocre gummy candy in nerds and called that done. He’d had worse. Scott would certainly rather eat this than, say, a Three Musketeers bar. Gross.

“Wait a little longer before you have another bite.”

* * *

“Jeanie, can I braid your hair? Please?” He made little grabbie motions at her hair. It looked so soft, and the color was so pretty, and he was absolutely not going to start crying again about how much he loved Jean. Absolutely not. “I’ve been watching tutorials because I know you like having your hair braided but I’ve been too anxious to ask to practice on you.”

Jean’s eyes lit up with joy, and she waved a hand, telepathically pulling a few hairbands from her dresser for Scott.

Scott patted the bed in front of him, and Jean shifted to give him better access to her hair. Gently, he reached up to group it into two big clumps. 

_ He was right. It was so, so soft. _

Gently, he took a strand from one clump, weaving it around and over to the other clump. From that clump, he took a different strand, and repeated the motion, though inverted. Back and forth, his fingers lightly tugged and pulled at the long red hair, weaving (and reweaving— this sort of thing was a learning curve on a real person) his fingers back and forth. It was so soothing, and the pattern was so pretty, and Jean was so pretty. He just loved her a whole lot.

Finally, Scott was finished. 

“There,” he said, flopping to the side so he could look Jean sort of in the face. “All done.”

Jean grinned, then gasped. “Can you take a picture for me?” Scott nodded, taking her phone and snapping a few quick pictures of the pretty, though admittedly a little roughshod, fishtail braid.

He handed the phone back to Jean, who scooted around to give him a kinda awkward hug, though the awkwardness was mostly because it was kinda hard to hug someone laying down on their side.

“This is nice,” he said, though it was incredibly muffled by her shoulder. “But kinda uncomfortable.”

“Oops.” Jean got off him, and impulsively he put his head in her lap. Jean carded her fingers gently through his hair, and Scott felt very pink. Emotionally.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he said, shutting his traitorous eyes. “I just— I’m— This is nice.”

He felt Jean lean back, but she didn’t stop petting his hair. Which was very nice. The blankets were so soft and he felt so calm and Jean was so wonderful and no one was hurt or dying and he still felt in control but not anxious about it. He wasn’t thinking about what might happen if anyone found out about them or if he was prepared for an attack or if he might hurt someone because his eyes were closed and Jean was there and her hand was in his hair and he felt safe and loved. 

“C’mere,” said Jean, and she gestured at him to readjust so she could wrap her arms around him, which he did gladly. Cuddling was nice. He should get cuddled more often. By Jean. He really liked getting cuddled by Jean, who was soft and warm and only came into his mind when he let her and never felt cold when she did. Her psychic presence was like a warm night curled up by the fireplace. She was the only telepath that Scott had ever met that felt like that. The rest were all ice cold, even Professor Xavier. Scott could handle the cold— he grew up in Alaska— but he didn’t have to like it.

He wasn't exactly sure how Jean’s telepathy or psychicness or whatever worked, but he had to express how that made him feel to her. Somehow. So Scott bundled up that soft warm feeling that she made him feel, the one that made him feel so stupid with affection that when he first met her all he could think was ‘wow’ and pushed it to her. Projected it. With his brain. 

The way she looked at him, that mix of surprise and elation made him think that maybe, just maybe, she’d gotten the message. Just to be safe, he laced his fingers with hers. Holding hands was really nice. Jean’s hand in his made him solid. It held him down and kept his feet metaphorically on the ground. Scott could always tell where he stood with Jean to keep him grounded, and just this thought had the smile already tugging at his lips break into a grin. He hid it in the crook of her neck, and she laughed.

He really liked her laugh.

He really liked Jean. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks


End file.
